Chương 28: Cherish Song

The group continued deeper into the castle. The hallway stretched ahead of them, quiet and polished, with tall windows lining one side. The false sky outside painted the glass in strange colors, and the soft light made the marble floor shine beneath their feet. Then they saw someone cleaning the windows. It was a maid. Or at least, that was the easiest way to describe him. He had short blonde hair and crimson eyes.

A pair of demonic horns curved from his head, and despite being male, he wore a frilly maid uniform instead of a butler's suit. He hummed quietly to himself as he wiped the glass with a cloth. Then he noticed them.

"Oh." He turned, blinking once.

"Intruders?" He sighed softly.

"That's not good." He lifted the edge of his skirt and gave a small curtsy.

"I would appreciate it if you left." Noah raised his sword slightly. Ava's hands moved toward her daggers. Cyrus narrowed his eyes. Adam looked at the maid, then at the others.

"I guess I'll take this one." He stepped forward with a sigh.

"I haven't done anything yet, though. He doesn't really seem like a combatant." The maid tilted his head.

"My name is Quinn." Then he turned back to the window and resumed cleaning. Adam stared at him. Quinn wiped the glass in slow, careful circles.

"If you won't leave, fine," Quinn said.

"I'll throw you out once I'm finished cleaning." He hummed again.

"Until then…" His voice softened.

"Ability Activate." Adam's hand moved toward his spear.

"Cherish Song." A gentle note passed through the hallway. It was quiet. Almost beautiful. Then everyone collapsed. Noah hit the floor first, his eyes rolling back. Ava dropped beside him a second later. Cyrus staggered, tried to form ice around his fingers, then fell before the spell completed. Even Adam could not resist it. His vision blurred. The hallway vanished. When Adam opened his eyes, he was no longer in Medusa's castle. He was in a cabin in the woods. Warm sunlight poured through the window.

The smell of old wood and morning air filled the room. A soft blanket covered his body, and a familiar weight pressed against his chest. Adam stopped breathing. His wife was curled up beside him, holding onto his arm. She had long brown hair and freckles scattered across her face. Slowly, she opened her eyes, revealing a gentle green that Adam had thought he would never see again. On his stomach slept his daughter. Celia.

She looked almost exactly like her mother, except for the small ram horns she had inherited from him. Adam stared at them. His heart broke all over again. His wife smiled sleepily.

"Dear," Melanie said, her voice soft with morning warmth.

"You're up early." She reached up and brushed a hand against his cheek.

"Normally, you like to sleep in." Her smile turned patient.

"What's wrong?" Adam could not answer. His arms moved before his mind could catch up. He pulled them both close. Melanie gave a small surprised sound, and Celia stirred against his chest, but Adam only held them tighter. Too tight. As if they would vanish if he let go. For one terrible moment, another image flashed through his mind. His wife's corpse. His daughter's empty eyes. Blood. A room that smelled of death. Adam trembled. Then the memory slipped away. Not naturally. Not because he wanted it to.

It was pushed down, buried beneath warmth and sunlight, as if something unseen had decided he was not allowed to remember pain here. Adam's breath shook. Melanie wrapped her arms around him.

"It's okay," she whispered.

"Too lovey-dovey…" A small voice mumbled against his chest.

"Too loud…" Celia curled closer to her father and went back to sleep, drooling softly against his shirt. Adam stared down at her. Then, despite the ache in his chest, he smiled. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. He held them both. His wife. His daughter. His family. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe this was real. Later that day, they went to a small bakery. Adam was not sure how they had gotten there. One moment, they were in the cabin.

The next, they were walking through Gram. Not the ruined Gram he remembered. Not the city stained with ash, blood, and grief. This Gram was alive. The streets were bright. The trees swayed gently above the stone paths. People laughed as they passed one another, and the smell of fresh bread filled the air. Adam slowed as they approached the bakery. At one table, Noah sat with Ava. Isaac and Isabelle were with them too. Both children were healthy. Both were outside. Isaac sat in the sunlight without burning.

Isabelle smiled as she ate a pastry, no black sludge staining her lips, no sickness weighing down her small body. Noah laughed at something Ava said. Ava smiled back at him. Adam stared. Something in his chest tightened. A few seats behind them, Cyrus sat with his own siblings. Cynthia had long purple hair, one red eye, and one yellow eye. A crown-like symbol glowed within the yellow iris. Large golden horns curved from her head, grand and bright. Beside her sat Nox. He had white hair and dark blue eyes.

A black face mask covered the lower half of his face, and white fox ears twitched on top of his head. Behind him, a fox tail bounced happily against the chair. He looked timid. But safe. Cyrus was eating ice cream with them, his usual cold expression softened into something almost peaceful. Adam looked around the bakery. Everyone was here. Everyone was alive. Everyone was whole. A plate was placed in front of him. Adam blinked.

Quinn stood beside the table, smiling politely as he served Adam and his family a slice of cake.

"Are you enjoying your time here, sir?" Adam looked from the cake to Quinn. Quinn gave another small curtsy.

"It's on the house," he said.

"Don't worry." Adam's hand rested on the table. For a moment, he almost asked where he was. Almost asked what this was. Almost asked why the dead were alive and why the broken had been healed. But Melanie leaned against him. Celia reached for the cake with sleepy excitement. And somewhere deep in his heart, the question faded before it could hurt. Adam smiled weakly.

"Yeah," he said. His voice came out softer than he intended.

"I am." Quinn's smile did not change.

"I do not mean you any harm." He set the empty tray against his side and looked around the bakery with quiet pride.

"My lady would hate such a thing." Adam stared at him. Quinn gestured gently to the room.

"So please. Simply enjoy your lives in this dream." Outside the window, Gram remained bright and peaceful. Children laughed in the street. The scent of bread and sugar filled the air.

"It will never end," Quinn said.

"You will never grow tired of seeing your loved ones whole." His crimson eyes moved toward the nearby tables.

"For Noah and Cyrus, they each have their siblings." Noah smiled as Isaac and Isabelle argued over pastries. Cyrus sat calmly with Cynthia and Nox, his expression softer than it ever had been in the real world.

"For Ava, she has Noah." Ava leaned against Noah's shoulder, smiling at him as if nothing in the world could ever take him away.

"Standing proud," Quinn said.

"With no burden of being a Hero." Then his gaze returned to Adam.

"And for you…" Melanie rested her head against Adam's arm. Celia hugged him tighter.

"Your cherished family." Adam's throat tightened. Quinn stepped closer.

"This dream is designed to help you forget." Adam's fingers curled against the table.

"All your sadness," Quinn said.

"All your dark thoughts. Every painful memory. They will slowly vanish." Adam looked around. Noah was laughing. Ava was smiling. Cyrus looked peaceful. None of them seemed aware of the wrongness anymore. They were already sinking. Already accepting it. Only Adam still had a piece of himself left. A piece that hurt. A piece that remembered.

"H-how…" His voice shook. The word nearly died in his throat. Something inside the dream pulled at him, urging him to stop. To sit down. To eat cake. To hold his wife. To forget the question before it could ruin everything. Adam forced his mouth to move.

"How do I leave?" Melanie's hand tightened around his arm. Celia looked up at him. Quinn tilted his head.

"Why would you want to leave?" His smile was patient. Kind. Cruel in a way that did not understand itself.

"Look how happy you are." Celia grabbed Adam's sleeve.

"Dad…" Her voice was small.

"Please don't leave." Adam looked down at her. His daughter stared up at him with wide green eyes. Then, for one flicker of a moment, those eyes vanished. Empty sockets stared back. Adam's breath stopped. The vision disappeared just as quickly, buried beneath the dream's warmth. Celia's eyes were whole again. But Adam remembered. His hand trembled.

"Just tell me," he said. Melanie's smile faltered. Celia began to cry. Adam shut his eyes.

"It's not real." The words felt like knives in his mouth.

"I need to see the real Celia." Celia sobbed and clung to him.

"Dad, please…" Adam's hands shook as he forced himself not to hold her. Quinn watched silently for a moment. Then he sighed.

"There are two ways to leave." Adam looked up.

"Either your body outside the dream is struck with a heavy blow…" Quinn reached into his apron.

"Or you kill your anchor in here." He placed a knife on the table. The metal looked far too real for a dream. Adam stared at it. His stomach turned cold.

"Anchor?" The word left him as a whisper. Then the memories returned in flashes. Melanie's corpse. Celia's eyeless face. Blood. The smell of death. Adam gripped the edge of the table as the dream tried to bury it again. Quinn nodded.

"Yes." His voice remained gentle.

"It is the only way from inside." Adam looked at the knife. Then at Melanie. Then at Celia. Quinn continued, almost conversationally.

"My lady often asks me to place her in a dream so she can be reunited with her husband and children." A faint sadness touched his smile.

"But not even she can bring herself to kill them in order to escape." Adam's face twisted.

"So what does she do?" Quinn gave a small laugh.

"She usually has me punch her in the face." The answer was so casual that Adam almost laughed. Almost. But Celia was still crying. Melanie was still holding his arm. And the knife waited on the table between them. Adam stared at it, knowing the dream had chosen its cruelest form. Because to wake up… He would have to lose them again.